


so better just leave and run

by wanderNavi



Series: than the certainty that all of this will end [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Gen, robin communicates better and is less of an idiot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-25 20:30:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16667803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderNavi/pseuds/wanderNavi
Summary: Dragging the coat over the table to himself, Frederick runs his fingers along the tears and stains. “What kind of business?”“Red eyes. He probably wants to do something about that situation,” Chrom shrugs again, uncomfortable and itching for Falchion at the idea of Grima still hanging around like a bad smell in a windowless room. “It’s also been nine years, he has plenty to catch up on.”This time, Robin has a cryptic at best conversation with Chrom before running off to slay inner demons.





	so better just leave and run

**Author's Note:**

> i’m an idiot that writes a remix of my own damn fanfic before it’s even done.
> 
> title also pulled from Dear Doubt's lyrics.

A ghost sits at the dinner table, slumped back into the seat, chin tucked in, and sipping from a steaming mug. The smell of coffee drifts in the room as the mug tips back and forth in slow motions. Sharp, black horns cut across his face’s profile, hiding his eyes and clashing against the white of his hair. Chrom stumbles over the entranceway.

The cup hits the table with a soft ceramic click.

“I can’t stay long,” the ghost says with a raspy voice.

Early morning light filters through the windows. Sumia and the girls are still asleep. The castle stirs awake in small twitches and murmurs and Chrom has meetings running all through the morning and early afternoon. Chrom’s voice catches over the name, “Ro-”

The chair legs screech over the stone floor. The ghost stands up while Chrom flinches back with a wince from the noise.

Chrom grabs onto the heavy cloth pressed into his hands on automatic.

“Take care of this for me,” the ghost says, red eyes piercing.

He nods, stunned.

Frederick finds him standing there some fifteen minutes later, alone and blinking at the coat in his hands.

* * *

Sumia pokes a finger through a hole stabbed through the coat’s back. She wiggles the finger up and down the gash. “I thought the coat has defensive magic. How did someone get a cut through like this?”

Chrom shrugs helplessly. Lucina offered to retrieve Morgan after he haltingly explained during breakfast what happened. She and her friends rode out by early afternoon. They should be back in a couple months, provided Morgan doesn’t have anything in Chon’sin with overwhelming priority she can’t immediately delegate to a subordinate. A bird’s been sent ahead.

“And now he won’t even have his coat,” Sumia says, flipping it back over. “Did he at least have light armor for protection?”

“Not that I saw. He had a traveling cloak and that hid most of whatever else he wore. I was distracted more by the whole. Horns. Scales. Red eyes thing. And then him saying something about business to take care of, ‘I can’t stay long,’ and insulting the coffee selection in the castle kitchens,” Chrom says, listing in his chair slightly, mind still galloping around _Robin, Robin, you’re back, how are you back, it’s been so long_.

Sumia takes his hands in hers with a steady grip and laughs lightly. “Well, the coffee part sounds like him.”

Frederick huffs while Chrom cracks a weak smile. The captain asks, “And the rest of it?”

“He didn’t have six eyes, if that’s what you’re asking, Frederick. Though, still, horns.” Chrom runs a thumb along Sumia’s in silent thanks.

Dragging the coat over the table to himself, Frederick runs his fingers along the tears and stains. The gold trims are dull. Overall, it could use a good wash to scrub away the grime. “What kind of business?”

The first time Robin came to Ylisstol, before the globetrotting adventures, before the threats of blood magic and apocalyptic dragons, he immediately flung himself into the library, skimming and reading with a hungry intensity. I have to familiarize myself with the world, he said. How am I supposed to help you if I don’t understand the history, the politics, the culture, the tactics of our people, our allies, and our enemies?

And with Validar, and with the threats of blood magic and apocalyptic dragons, Robin locked himself back in with the scrolls and codex, desperately researching for meaning and action.

“Red eyes. He probably wants to do something about that situation,” Chrom shrugs again, uncomfortable and itching for Falchion at the idea of Grima still hanging around like a bad smell in a windowless room. “It’s also been nine years, he has plenty to catch up on.”

* * *

Chrom suspects that Robin’s assistant hiring process, back when he was still in Ylisstol as his advisor, mostly entailed baiting a trap and then ensnaring a procession of spies and criminals. They slink around too silently and startle the court whenever they suddenly appear with more information than anyone else. Somehow, Frederick inherited the lot and the arrangement works out with minimal strain.

Frederick turns them all loose on Robin’s trail.

“It’s time for them to finally return to their original master,” is all he says on the matter.

Three days later, the first bird comes back. Regular updates come rolling in everyday afterwards. Finally, when the summer heat is just starting to chill into autumn’s light, cool nips, a bird flies into Chrom’s office through the open window and onto his desk. He eyes it warily. Messenger birds aren’t trained to fly directly to the recipients, or so he thinks.

Robin’s waspish letter tells him to calm down and lay off with stalking him with his own former subordinates. It’s undignified that he catches them in the act, and Chrom’s footing all the dinner bills. Also, he’s going to be off the continent for a while, for his undisclosed business, so don’t panic if Chrom suddenly can’t easily reach him over land travel.

The bird gives a curt hoot when he’s done reading and shits on his desk, then flies off.

* * *

“We just missed my father?” Morgan levies an unimpressed look at Chrom.

“To be fair,” Chrom tries to defend himself, “I didn’t realize he left the continent either until his bird arrived and he was probably already on a ship at that point. By then it was too late to try reaching Lucina and let you all know.”

The light blue in her hair’s been washing out from the weeks of travel and Morgan’s unimpressed expression intensifies. “What did he go abroad for? Is this about the –” she waves a hand by the side of her face “– horn business?”

Horns. Scales. Red eyes. “I’m assuming, he hasn’t specified. He left this with me.”

She takes the coat from Chrom. Frederick sewed it back up and sent it through the washes, but there’s little to be done about the worn cloth’s rough texture or its magicless state. She unfolds it with a snap of the wrists. There’s no mistaking Robin’s coat for hers, even if they may have been the same in a different timeline.

A slow smile spreads over her face and she drapes the coat over her arm. “Then he’ll be back when he’s done. I can afford to wait for his return.”

She bows to Chrom, then turns to leave, swords clacking to her merry step. “Owain promised me a tour of Ylisstol since it’s been a while since I’ve visited the capital.”

“Have fun,” he says, returning her smile.

* * *

The next bird comes from Tiki and he shares the letter with Morgan. She mutters, “I really just missed him.”

 _Exalt Chrom_ , the letter starts in flowing script just this side of unreadable, _Grima lingers still in Robin and he suspects is part of why he was able to revive. We wish to flush out the Fell Dragon but trying to directly contact Naga failed for him. We’re heading to Origin Peaks and Dragon’s Table next._

At the bottom in Robin’s chicken scratch, _Don’t do anything too rash_.

“Hypocrite,” Morgan laughs fondly.

“I’ve never noticed before,” Sumia says slowly with a grin, “how terrible both of their handwritings are.”

Morgan laughs harder. Chrom laughs too, even if _Grima lingers still_ is highly concerning.

Later, when Frederick reads over the letter as well, he agrees about Chrom’s concerns at the Grima part. “I don’t like it, milord. This damn dragon is too persistent in its survival. Robin’s final blow was supposed to be the everlasting final blow. No more slumber, no more revival.”

Chrom sighs in agreement. “These are beings able to manipulate time and hold massive power. Still, it’s Lady Tiki and Robin. I’m sure they have a handle on what’s happening and will see this task through.”

The study’s fireplace crackles against the winter cold and Chrom pours out more wine for the two of them. He ignores Frederick’s noise of protest.

“I dislike that they’ll travel into Plegia for Dragon’s Table,” Frederick says.

“You and me both.”

“I can send some of Robin’s assistants to get in contact with Gaius. He’ll be agreeable to helping bolster their safety while in Plegia’s borders and be indispensable in getting them out if trouble unfortunately does arrive.”

“Do that.”

* * *

Robin flashes them all a harried grin, hornless but eyes still glinting a sharp red. There’s a slightly singed edge to both his and Tiki’s clothing, Robin more so. Striding towards the waiting reception party, he says, “Who decided to send Gaius to us? I think I can figure out the reasoning behind that, but who did that? It near guaranteed that our exit from Plegia would be – _ooph_ ”

Morgan collides into her father at a run and lifts him clear off the ground with her hug, swinging him around and around. Chrom follows at a more sedated pace, giving them space for the reunion, safely outside the collision zone from flying legs. Tiki bows to him and he bows back.

“Hey, kid.” Robin cards a hand into Morgan’s hair and pats her back when his feet return to ground. “Tiki and Lukas told me about what you’ve been up to the last few years, rebuilding Chon’sin with Say’ri. I’m so proud of you, I’m so proud of what you’ve done. Gods, look at you, you’ve grown wonderfully. I’m sorry I missed this.”

“But you’re here now,” Morgan says, drawing back enough to look at Robin, eyes tearing with blinding joy.

“I’m here now.” They separate a step further, taking each other in.

Suddenly, Robin calls out, “Hey Chrom. Did you take care of my coat?”

“Of course. Did you take care of Grima?”

His smile goes razor sharp and vindictively satisfied. “Of course.”

**Author's Note:**

> i'm an individual of simple concerns and entertainments. the bird's my favorite part.
> 
> don't really check tumblr for messages/asks rn due to irl being busy but sometimes i throw wip stuff on [my writing tumblr](https://the-progress-bar.tumblr.com).


End file.
